


Eu Preciso de Você

by AthenasMuse



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Angst, Denial, Football, Gay, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Slow Burn, title may change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-03-25 18:59:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13840980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthenasMuse/pseuds/AthenasMuse
Summary: He looks up at Eric, “Like swans, they mate for life too.”Dele holds his gaze, before looking back at the screen, eyes glassy and a small smile on his face.Eric scoffs, “Yeah, maybe. Don’t get sappy on me mate.”Set in the 2015-2016 Premier League SeasonI wrote this a while ago, but I thought I would upload it, because why not.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> References to coco, mean Erik Lamela.

“You’ll absolutely love it here, the guys are really cool, there’s a couple of lads your age, so you’ll fit in great in no time. Oh, and Pochettino has heard some amazing things from your loan spell, he’ll treat you just like the others, no newbie exceptions” the captain of Tottenham Hotspur, Hugo Lloris explains. Dele smiled brightly, already excited to start training with the first team. He knew a few of the lads already, from the U18 and U21 England squad. Not many though.

“Sounds great Hugo, looking forward to it.” Dele replies, meaning every word. Hugo patted him enthusiastically on the back, smiling to himself.

“It is, trust me. We’re all like a big family here, very respectful and all. I’ll introduce you to the coach and a few team mates before we start training, yeah?”

Dele nods eagerly. He is so ready for this. Even though he will miss MK Dons, his home for so long now, he is ready to move on. The kid has a contagious grin, plastered on his face – it’s radiant and it even makes Hugo smile, for no particular reason. It’s intoxicating.

Dele just appears to be permanently happy, Hugo thinks. He knows the kid will succeed, he has unfinished business with the club. He wishes all young people would be happy like Dele. He wishes Eric could be this happy.

Lloris makes good on his promise. Dele is introduced to Pochettino, who goes on about expectations and a good, positive team mentality. He meets a handful of players too. Jan Vertonghen seems like fun, along with Mousa Dembélé. He can hear them laughing from a mile away. He thinks Luke McGee is funny, and Harry Kane takes his job seriously. Even new boy Son Heung-min is unbashful with his actions, hugging Dele and laughing deafeningly down his ear.

“And here is Eric Dier, he’s been with us for about a year, so he’s pretty new here still,” Hugo explains as he and Dele approach the older English man. Eric looks up from securing his laces, and stares straight at Dele. They’ve met before, only little exchanges of words, bits of banter thrown around the dressing room after an international match. The second his eyes meet Eric’s, Dele feels his stomach flip and clench. He takes in everything about him; his gentle smile, his flopped brunette strands of hair, his fair skin and blue eyes. Dele can’t help but realise how blue his eyes actually are.

He nodded softly at Dele, actions almost careful, like he was in pain. He keeps staring though.

Eric stares into Dele’s eyes with a sort of intensity that he has never experienced before. It chills him to the bone, and makes him squirm uncomfortably. He offers a small smile, before Eric finally speaks up. His voice is deep, and slightly accented.

“Is he joining us from MK Dons again?” diverting his attention towards Hugo. Eric notices Dele staring at him, and can’t help but blush slightly, the awkwardness of the situation making his cheeks red and hot.

“He is actually! Pochettino has been tracking his progress and was impressed by how much he’s improved. He’s amazing at dribbling, and doesn’t do a bad nutmeg either!” Dele blushes at the compliment, again fidgeting and fiddling with his hands - he lets out a nervous chuckle.

Eric nods, sticking out his lower lip and raising his eyebrows. “Sounds like he’ll have no problem fitting in then. Congrats Dele.” He says, his voice deepening while saying his name. Dele swallows thickly. Hugo gives them a weird look, before shaking his head and putting a hand on Dele’s shoulder.

“Shall we go and warm up? You can meet the others later once they all arrive,” he beams. Dele nods and smirks to himself. At least he wasn’t late on his first day.

Eventually, they’re all running laps. He’s said hello to everyone on the team, all of them introducing themselves and congratulating Dele on being called back to the first team; as well as various _Come on You Spurs_ chants being passed around in aid of the new season.

Eric keeps himself to himself. This is obvious, even if Harry tells Dele half way through practice. “You’ll get used to it, he’ll open up in a few weeks,” he grinned to himself, before turning around so he was jogging backwards, “Me and Luke will show you around after we’ve finished.”

With that, Harry turned around and started sprinting over to where Pochettino was walking out.

In the end, practice goes well. Kyle Walker is a bundle of jokes and Dele can’t stop laughing. The nerves subside, and he even enjoys himself towards the end of the drills - which are unbelievably lengthy and in depth.

He gets given a tour of the site. Harry is kind, and precise with his words. Luke is surprisingly charming. And he was young. And attractive. And Dele has an uplifting feeling whenever he interacts with him. But it’s nowhere as intense as with Dier.

Eric Dier, the man with incredibly blue eyes.

 

And even once Dele’s gone home, after interviews and a few brief _good nights_ he can’t help but think about the English man. Maybe it’s just sleep talking - he is currently running on 5 hours of snooze. After eating and calling his mom to let her know how his first day went, he lies on his bed, staring out of his window and up at the clouds. They cast dark, moody shapes into the bright London sunset, a mixture of burnt oranges and vibrant reds. _What is wrong with Dier? Why is he so reserved, he’s young and handsome, what has he got to hide? He’s like this with England, but apparently, he isn’t usually. What’s wrong with me?_ He thinks to himself. Shaking his head, he pulls the duvet over his torso before turning to face the wall.

Something’s up with that kid, and Dele can’t help but think it’s something to do with him.


	2. Chapter 2

He wakes up the next morning, neck stiff and sore. His leg is hanging off the bed, and while his head is buried into the warmth cushion of his pillow, his torso is facing the wall, although his crotch facing the ceiling. Groaning, he moves his head and upper body so it is facing the ceiling, and his body is in line again. Eric sighs, before scratching his stomach and wimping as he feels a certain stiffness between his legs. _Fuck that_ , he thinks, before manoeuvring himself to the edge of the bed, and pushing himself up. He can’t face training today. All because of one person, the same person he dreamt of for the whole of his England call up. Being in the U21 squad with Dele sucked. He could never say anything right in front of him, so he just stopped completely. Only one person knew the way he felt, and that was Jan.

Jan Vertonghen, the vice-captain of Tottenham Hotspur, knew about the way he felt. He knew that it was hard to be civil or open up to someone new, especially if it was slightly awkward. He understood and Jan, despite saying it was only a brief moment, mentioned the time he had to apologise to Nicklas Helenius for pulling his shorts down, at an away match - absolute nightmare. Jan was very supportive though, just saying he was always there; all that usual bullshit. But he did mention not to be too hard on Dele, who’s only young.

Making his way to the shower, he stripped himself of his boxers, and stepped into the cold downpour of water. It gave him a buzz, only momentarily until the temperature changed again, and he finally relaxes into the water cascading down on his back. Once Eric finished washing his hair, and getting rid of any stiffness he felt, he stepped out into the warmth of his apartment. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he made way for the kitchen.

In the kitchen, he raids the cupboards for any source of food. He finds some bread and jam, and with further examination, a packet of pastel de nata – Small custard tarts, just like back in Portugal. There’s cheese and ham in the fridge, and suddenly, this looks like a typical breakfast he would enjoy back with his family. He makes something which resembles galão, but it’s more like a plain coffee in the end. He smiles to himself as he begins to devour the Portuguese banquet in front of him. And it’s almost as if he’s home, in Portugal, sitting in the warm breeze and the sun shining down on his back. Only, he’s inside his London apartment, not in the beautiful city of Lisbon. Don’t get him wrong, he loves it in London, but something’s missing. There’s no closeness of another human, like he would get with his family, no one to hold him when he’s feeling down or to casually joke around with; no banter in this house.

Maybe he should open up to Dele.

The thought makes his stomach flip, and his head rush in excitement. No, you daft bastard, he thinks, stop feeling this way. It’s not natural.

It reminds him of being young. When he was 18, and living back in Lisbon, he met a guy. The memory is hazy, but he remembers clearly that it was another Sporting player. It was a short lived relationship, as it hurt Eric too much; it made Eric doubt himself. He didn’t know who he was anymore, and he slowly began to hate himself, and his feelings.

His name was Cédric Soares.

He was gentle, and loving, throughout the whole situation. He never pushed Eric, and understood when he needed space. Only he didn’t understand how Eric felt. Cédric would never understand why Eric hated himself so much, the guy was nice, attractive and pretty intelligent. They had some great times together. They would stretch together, every touch gentle and caring. On their off days, they would wake up late, and share lazy kisses and tender touches. It was perfect really.

Eric began to shut himself off, however. Cédric realised his sudden change in attitude. Long nights of Eric crying to himself shook their relationship, as well as Eric cancelling on date nights. He trained for much longer than everyone else, and spoke much less than usual. He seemed, dejected.

Their relationship came to an end, eventually. Cédric made sure they were still friends – he couldn’t let everything that had happened ruin the team mentality.

Eric started going out more, seeing girls as if he was trying to convince himself that he was alright. That he was straight.

He couldn’t handle the truth.

The memory ended, and he suddenly realised he was crying. Tears trailing down his cheeks. Clutching his mug, he stood up and carried it over to the sink. He’d sort the washing out later. He wiped is cheeks furiously before returning to his room. He found out a pair of jeans, and a large jumper. The training session today was much shorter, so he could escape faster. The jumper was big, and reached his knuckles. He rolled the sleeves up, and found out a pair of trainers. His training kit was folded neatly in his duffel bag, so he was already ready. He picks up the bag, before checking his phone briefly. One new message, from Jan.

_Hey, can you pick me up? Sophie’s gone out with Leyla and Mousa’s ignoring me!_

He typed a quick yes, before grabbing his keys, and making for the door.

The drive is short, the radio blaring some Australian band called ‘Tonight’-whatever. He’s not sure exactly. Jan’s joking about something that happened between the Belgian lads yesterday, something to do with dancing and Toby, but he’s only half listening.

He’s thinking about Dele, and he can’t help but remember Cédric every time he dreams about the younger Englishman. It honestly makes him doubt who he is, so he tells himself; _you’re not gay!_

It will do, for now.

But halfway through the day, Dele is the first to speak. He walks over to him, smiling brightly, like a ray of sunshine. He flips off someone as he walks over, and then roughly plops himself down next to Eric. He pauses slightly, before grinning to himself and turning to face him.

“You alright Diet?” he smirked, looking him straight in the eye, a certain intensity in his gaze.

“Diet?” Eric says confused.

“I’m just playing with you! I haven’t seen you since England, are you okay?”

“I suppose, yeah thanks,” he grinned. His head was a mess. Stomach full of butterflies, he adverted his gaze back towards the ground. This is weird. He stared at his hands, “What about you?”

“Yeah, it’s been alright. Cracking stuff with MK Dons, going to miss my mums cooking though,” he laughed. His laugh was beautiful; melodious and sweet to the ears. Eric swallowed thickly. “So, what’s up with the accent, am I missing something?” he said, adverting his gaze towards Eric’s blue, blue eyes. Eric stayed staring at the ground.

“Uh, I moved to Portugal when I was 7, lived there until 2014, when I signed he-”

“So you speak Portuguese then diet? That’s pretty cool,” Dele interrupted, grinning to himself, “That means you’re basically foreign, that’s hot.” He pauses, noticing how Eric tenses up. He smirked before nudging his shoulder, hand warm against his shoulder. “I’m only playing, you know,” Dele smiled. His smile was radiant, making the corners of Eric’s mouth turn upwards.

There was a loud noise, supposedly from Pochettino, and Dele stood up. Holding out his hand, with his signature warm smile, he shrugged and looked Eric straight in the eyes. Eric’s heart rate turned up a notch, heart beating at a rapid pace. Gingerly, he reached out and took his hand, allowing himself to be picked up off the dirt. And with a quick pat on his back, Dele left, making his way towards Pochettino, a certain spring in his step.

And Dele skips away, beaming to himself, feeling accomplished. Something tells him though, inside his jumbled, little head, that Eric is special.

And he will allow himself to believe it – he won’t give up on him that easily - because he’s that kind of optimistic person. Eric is special, that’s something Dele is sure of.

Training goes slow; painfully slow. The drills are long and enduring. Pochettino was harsh and snappy, and even Dele’s smile subsided for the majority of the session. Once they reach the changing rooms, the collective team mood is low, tiredness radiating from each individual in the room. It’s pretty shit, Dele thinks to himself, as he strips down to boxers and heads towards the showers. He hopes it can only get better from here. The water is fresh, and brings some sort of life to his numb, tired body. Someone steps in beside him, and he tenses. He thought everyone had washed.  And shit what if it’s Eric; Eric’s shy nature would make it 10 times harder to make friends with him – especially after seeing him semi-naked.

“You alright Dele?”

Thank god it’s only Harry.

“Yeah, yeah thanks… just slightly, as you would say, fatigued? Yeah, very tired,” he sighed.

“I can tell, you’re very out of it. Is everything alright? And outside of training?”

“Yeah, fine, just tired, you know?” he wafted his hand around and exhaled; this was well awkward.

He didn’t understand how Harry did it, as he was already finished and turning the shower water off. No one can shower that quickly surely. Mad, he thought, must be the bloody devil.

Harry smiled, grabbing a towel and wrapping it tightly around his waist, “You know I’m here to talk if you ever need it.”

“Thanks Haz,” Dele nodded before turning back to the shower wall. Thank god that was over. He was left standing in the water, and suddenly, he felt so alone. It was so very quiet in there, with no one else around. The area had become quiet, players having filed out as soon as possible. He wrapped a towel around his waist and left the shower room.

The small group of players left consisted of Kyle, Sonny, Tom, Kieran, Coco and Nabil. And Eric. Quiet, shy Eric. He grinned at Coco, before stalking to his locker.

“Alright lads, see you later, take care now,” Tom shouted, smirking to himself. He winked at Kieran and gestured for him to follow, unbashful in his movements. Kieran simply flipped him off.

“See you later twats,” Kieran said dryly. Dele laughed, slightly over dramatically, but it was really the funniest thing that had happened all day. He trailed after him, and the pair disappeared out of the door. Kyle followed soon behind them, along with Coco and Nabil. Sonny practically skipped out the room not long after, forgetting to shut his locker and shouting in a rapid mixture of German and Korean, giggling to himself.

And then there were just two.

Eric cleared his throat, shuffling awkwardly in his seat as Dele stood frozen to the spot, only in his boxers. Bending over, he picked up his jeans and started humming. Thinking Out Loud, what a tune.

“I’m thinking ‘bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways. Maybe it’s all part of a plan,” he glanced behind to see Eric staring. The situation was quite funny really. Dele, standing with his jeans around his thighs – may he mention they were tight jeans, and boxers – singing about love with a socially awkward guy staring directly at him, eyes roaming his body. Eric’s eyes met his, and his cheeks instantly turned red. Looking away quickly, he stood up, murmuring to himself in a foreign language – Portuguese, Dele guesses.

“Don’t worry diet, I know I’m irresistible,” he chortled to himself. Turning to face him, he paused, suddenly turning serious, “Are you alright? You’re very quiet.”

Eric shuffled again, pulling is left leg up to his chest to tie up his shoelace. He cleared his throat and tried to muster up a smile. “Yep, thanks I’m fine. It doesn’t matter anyway,”

“Doesn’t matter?” Dele asked, wondering what he meant.

“Just stuff, it doesn’t matter, leave it,” his voice became aggressive. He stopped, and took a deep breath, “Dele, I’m sorry-“

“No, it’s okay, don’t worry. Look, you want to meet up, like tomorrow?”

This was a big move. He didn’t understand what was wrong with Eric, but he wanted to be friends; they not only had Tottenham, but England together as well. And Eric seemed like a nice guy, he just needed some coaxing out of his shell. And they did have a day off tomorrow.

“Hmm… I’m not sure if I’m free-“

“It’s literally just an hour of FIFA or something,” Dele groaned.

“Okay fine. Sounds great,” Eric couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“Great, I’ll text you the address,” he said, motioning for Eric’s phone. Reluctantly, Eric unlocked it and handed it over, trying his hardest not to look too defeated.

It was a small victory for Dele, but progression nevertheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!
> 
> All feedback is welcome! x
> 
> (May edit this later on)


	3. Chapter 3

The next time they meet, Eric is running late. He never usually is late, but in this case, it’s alright; he doesn’t want to appear too eager, so it’s perfect really. He turns up at exactly 4:04, and Dele opens the door almost instantly. Eric tries his best to smile, waving with his free hand, the other holding a batch of freshly baked pastel de nata and bola de berlim. There’s a moment of silence before Dele laughs, opening the door for Eric to walk in.

“You alright diet?” he smiled, and Eric swore Dele winked. He was probably imagining it, but it still made him melt inside. Dele was a nice guy, he was allowed to make Eric happy.

“Alright thanks, and you?” he replied, slipping off his jacket.

“Yeah, good thanks, just tired. What’s in the bag?” his head peered over, anticipating Eric’s answer.

“Just some Portuguese pastries,” he paused, looking up at Dele. He smiled as Dele’s face lit up in excitement, and couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. He glanced up, meeting Dele’s eyes, and couldn’t help but blush slightly at the sudden eye contact. Dele’s eyes held the same certain intensity that they did before, one that he couldn’t explain; and although it was making him feel uncomfortable, he couldn’t look away.

“They look nice.” Dele said, and he was grinning again. Always smiling, he was, and it always managed to light the room. It was suddenly very hard to breathe, as he forced himself to look away.

“Let’s go into the living room, “ he said again, noticing Eric’s flushed cheeks.

As they made their way into the living room, acknowledged how open the flat was.

The living room was grand, and attached to a large kitchen-diner. Cream walls were accompanied by plush, black leather sofas, decorated with scatter cushions. There was a fireplace, radiating warmth and homely tones. A TV was placed nearby, along with a PS4 controller. The room was cosy, and smelt of vanilla. It was warming, and Eric knew that he could get used to it.

He sat himself down, taking in his surroundings. Dele reappears with a plate full of Eric’s pastries, along with two bottles of water. 

“Sorry, didn’t know if you wanted anything else, kitchens over there so just help yourself,” Dele said, before setting down the pastries and water. He paused, looking around the room, seeming to process the options for his next move. The younger man seemed to realise what he was doing, as his face lit up and he made his way towards the TV, picking up two PS4 controllers. He sauntered back over to Eric, grinning at him cheekily before handing him a controller.

“North London derby diet, shot gun Spurs” he laughed. Eric instantly groaned; just great, FIFA with bloody Arsenal. But Dele just laughs and leans into Eric, starting the game.

They played countless matches, taking it in turns to be Tottenham, each time Dele benching Eric. Banter is thrown back and forth, Dele giggling to himself constantly, especially when Eric pouts and frowns in frustration, only to then concede – yet again. An hour into their FIFA session, and Dele puts down his controller.

“I’m going to get a drink diet,” he said, sitting forwards, “You want anything?”

Eric instantly misses the warmth of the younger man. He still nods though, blinking up at him. Dele stands up slowly, looking back over his shoulder to Eric. He motioned for Eric to follow him, once more smirking to himself. Dele smiled a lot, he was always somewhat happy, face bright like the sun. Eric has realised this throughout his little time spent with him.

He follows him through to the kitchen diner, pausing by the door. Watching Dele carefully, he moves into the room and sits on one of the breakfast bar stools. It’s cold, really cold compared his previous seat.

“I have water, fizzy stuff somewhere, tea, coffee, you name it and I’ll find it,” Dele said, staring him straight in the eyes.

“Um, I’ll have cola, if you have it?” Eric said, adverting his eyes from the ground, to Dele and then back again.

By the time he looked up again, there was a can of cola sitting in front of him. And with a cheeky grin, Dele turned back around, bending over to pick out another drink. Eric could’ve sworn that Dele shook his butt in the air, and instantly his cheeks flushed as he desperately adverted his eyes away. He turned back, and watched as he took his drink and walked back through to the living room.

Eric didn’t realise he was holding his breath as Dele walked past, not until he exhaled deeply, short of breath.

It was simple though really why he was gasping for air; Dele just took his breath away.

Realising that he was still sitting in the cold stool, he jumped up and trailed back over to the sofa, gingerly taking his place next to the boy.

The rest of the night dawdled along, Eric taking glances every now and then of Dele, as they struggled their way through the intense plot of ‘Captain America: The Winter Soldier’. Dele giggled his way through the film, leaning on Eric and saying, “I bet Captain and that Bucky guy are soul mates,” he looks up at Eric, “Like swans, they mate for life too.”

Dele holds his gaze, before looking back at the screen, eyes glassy and a small smile on his face. Eric scoffs, “Yeah, maybe. Don’t get sappy on me mate.” He’s smiling back, and carries on smiling as Dele leans further into him. They continue watching, Eric aware of the warmth radiating from the body next to him. Dele pulls up his legs and looks at Eric, before lying on Eric’s shoulder, stretching out his legs on the vast sofa. He should protest, Eric knows something about this is wrong, but Dele is smiling, shining like the sun; he’s happy and he can’t stop him.

They finish the film, Dele gripping Eric’s arm, clinging to him as the film climaxed. As the credits rolled by, the older man shuffled forwards slightly from his seat, mumbling something about having to go home. He can hear the other man sigh, before looking to see him stretching and standing up.

“That’s fine, we have training tomorrow anyway,” he stops, staring at his feet before meeting Eric’s blue, blue eyes, “I had a great time tonight diet, we should do it again sometime.”

“It’s _Dier,_ not diet, you nonce. And yeah, it was good, we should do it again. Thank you for having me,” Eric says, giving Dele a toothy grin, making his way towards the door.

“I still beat you at FIFA, that’s all that matters. It’s alright, I had a good time.”

There’s a sudden tense atmosphere, Dele wanting so much to reach out and hug Eric. The latter is hovering awkwardly by the door, also wanting some form of contact and struggling for the right words. Eric speaks first.

“As did I, I’ll see you again tomorrow Dele.” He pauses, and quickly closes the distance between them. Dele relaxes into the hug, a sudden rush of warmth overcoming him, and he holds the older man tightly to his chest. They hug, maybe for too long, neither of them caring too much. As they pull away, Dele reaches out and open the door, and then resting his hand on Eric’s shoulder and squeezing it gently.

“See you tomorrow, have a safe journey home Eric.”

Eric nods, smiling as he leaves the apartment. He feels contented, suddenly realising he’s connected with Dele. For once he’s smiling as bright as Dele, walking as proudly as Dele, and breathing easily _because_ of Dele; he is all he can think about. And for once, he just simply feels happy.

And it feels fucking fantastic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update! All feedback is welcome.
> 
> Finally got around to doing this, I hope you enjoy! x

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy this first chapter.
> 
> All feedback is welcome! x


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